


Form of a Wolf

by BetweenTownleys



Series: Friends & Brothers [1]
Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Costumes, ET ALL - Freeform, Friends & Brothers tie-in, Grinding, M/M, Uniform Kink, Voyeurism, and they love each other, dubcon but kinda not, fuckwords, gary is horrible, halloween banger minisode, heavy breathing, how many additional tags does this need? its slutty and bad ok, jerking off, jimmy is sassy, pulling the pud, smacking the monkey, spanking it, the boys hate each other, wringing the wang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenTownleys/pseuds/BetweenTownleys
Summary: it's Halloween night, and Gary Smith has unearthed his old SS uniform.Friends & Brothers standalone tie-in, vaguely to be found between chapters 6 and 7





	Form of a Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squidnapped](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidnapped/gifts).



> This is a birthday oneshot for the incredibly wonderful and also very powerful SQUIDNAPPED! Happy Bday my dude!!!! What a light in the world you are!!!!! That being said, I tried to really go for it and make this one psychologically FILTHY, though I could have probably made everybody jizz like at least 20 more times? This particular smopkins chemistry which is compliant with the Friends & Brothers storyverse is like... wildly complicated and layered? This oneshot exists sort of amorphously between chapters 6 and 7 but as long as you accept the boys are stepbrothers who bang on thursdays, it could be a standalone? As much as this was an exercise in embracing more slutty writing, it was also in trying to keep myself to a lower page limit. SO! Please enjoy this sorta-short, kinda-uniform kink story full of yelling, doubting everything and jerking off! I'm dead, its done!

  


The SS officer’s uniform had remained untouched, unlike the vast majority of Gary Smith’s other things after he had been admitted to the asylum at the top of the dreary hill. It felt a little like all his possessions had been cursed that day; or that the curse was something which had built gradually over the weeks following his expulsion, since apparently no one had experienced the desire to touch his things for longer than the exact amount of time it took to shove all of it wholesale into a cardboard box. Unpacking again had been a harrowing chore full of wrinkled shirts, crumpled papers, and a surprise spider’s nest that had spilled hundreds of baby spiders into several pairs of Gary’s nicest dress shoes. If there was anything Gary Smith _truly_ _hated_ on this earth, it was Disorder. And so when he had produced the air-sealed costume bag from the bottom of his dresser drawer, only to find it _exactly_ as he had left it and not _ruined like everything else always ended up_ , a slow, sanguine smile had crept across his lips.

 

It was a Thursday. _That kind of_ Thursday, though it was still a mystery as to what exactly it would yield;  Gary only knew that it would involve Jimmy somehow, as Thursdays these days usually did, and being together with him, possibly in the dark, with one of them squeezing parts of the other which were, strictly speaking, _forbidden_ amongst brothers for touching. But more than being Thursday, it was something more than any other day. Something particularly special. This Thursday, unlike all other days of the year, was Halloween.

 

 As Gary slid through the shadows of the Vale and took in the distant moans and groans of Billy Crane’s Traveling Carnival, the streets jostling with costumed children, he wondered if he could still expect Jimmy to meet him at the lighthouse tonight at all. They hadn’t discussed this particular night, that it was Halloween, that the rules had always been different in Bullworth on this night, like they weren’t on other nights. Not that when the brothers Smith got together, they actually spent much time _discussing anything_ . (Jimmy had two modes, kicking or kissing.) It was just that it had never come up.They hadn’t discussed holidays, sick days, or emergencies as they pertained to their regularly scheduled sex appointments either.  But they _had_ both made every effort to drag themselves to the lighthouse as promptly as possible every week thus far, ever since that first Thursday Gary had laid out on the bar and suggested that Jimmy suck his cock. But of course there were exceptions to every rule. Gary just hadn’t encountered one for this particular scenario yet.

 

Holidays meant very little to Gary Smith, except in the capacity that he sometimes was forced by his father to involve himself in a little performative behavior for the neighbors. Thanksgiving was a barely concealed joke. His birthday was an afterthought. (Christmas was, traditionally... _a task_ .) But tonight was Halloween night! In this place, it was truly the night of nights, when adults retreated and the children of the town grew wild in their absence. Chill winds whipped at the trees and filled the blue night air with skittering brown leaves, while academy students in polyester and rubber lit off fountains of gold sparkles, and smashed illuminated pumpkins, and tore at each other and and screamed and desecrated the resting places of the dead. And Jimmy had some sort of perverse obsession with pranks that honestly gave Gary a woody half the time anyway, so who knew when, where, or _as what_ Jimmy might appear. Halloween was the holiest of all days to prank, and begrudgingly, Gary did have to admit it; Jimmy was right, there _was_ a certain kind of magic to the holiday. Though he would never say those words out loud.  He could never stomach giving Jimmy the satisfaction.

 

The crisp SS hat Gary sported was the only evidence he wore to support his supposed knowledge that it indeed was All Hallows Eve. After he had given his sharp black and white uniform a perfunctory once-over, Gary had deduced in the end that it was trite for it to make a repeat appearance, and had folded it neatly away again for safekeeping. But a lingering hand had gone out in the end to keep the cap. It fit around his skull snugly, and made him feel sharp, giving him an injection of wily memories from Halloweens of years past… back when he had been a much more self-assured kind of tyrant than he was now. In a way, he still missed that version of himself. Things had been simpler for that Gary, when his loves and hates hadn’t been so impossibly snarled up together. He chose to echo that version of himself by keeping on his school uniform, minus the vest, on a night when all other school uniforms were cast away.  It was unusual, but it didn’t make him stand out in quite the same way that wearing an entire SS uniform would now get him targeted for violence. It was safer for Gary to move through Bullworth if he didn’t look as ghoulish as everybody assumed (rightly) that he was, but Gary still wanted to make his statement all the same. It felt smarter to downgrade to just the hat, with no Jimmy at his side to do the pummeling should someone try to harass him. Instead, there was only the sweet promise of a Jimmy in the future he would be _allowed to_ pummel, in more ways than one. But anyway, he was trying to make _a point_ , damn it, which was that he had a sneaking suspicion Jimmy would like it. Jimmy moaned and complained, but Hopkins reacted _dick-first_ when Gary pushed him around. At least, he did when they were alone. He was a pig, but it made sense. The hat would be enough to give him a taste of that past. He ran the tips of his fingers along the brim and moved briskly down the sidewalk, while behind him, the streets of Bullworth echoed with crackling fireworks, and laughter, and slow drifting clouds of white smoke that were filled with the gamboling silhouettes of vampires and witches and wolves.

  
  


In what was admittedly an unexpected turn, when Gary shouldered into the lighthouse, Jimmy was _actually there_ . It took a moment to spot him at first, because he was lying _on the floor_ . He had spread out on the dusty bear skin rug, in front of which had been kindled a decent fire in the fireplace. Gary paused, raising an eyebrow full of questions at this provocative sight, before he realized with a snort that Jimmy was asleep. And _snoring_.

 

Loudly.

 

Gary’s face fell in irritation, but then fell further until it circled back around into amusement instead. Jimmy couldn’t see the smile with half his face mushed into the bearskin rug, so there was no reason to hide it. Gary walked over and nudged an oxford into Jimmy’s armpit, all the while wondering at their circumstance, and that every time Gary met Jimmy like this, somehow, it was because they had both willed it so. They had both independently decided to continue on with this offensive charade of theirs for yet another week, against the better judgement of both parties. That, above all the (many) other absurdities in Gary’s life, seemed the most ridiculous, the most obscene.

  


Hopkins was covered in fur. At first Gary thought it was just part of the decrepit bearskin rug, but the colors and textures were a little different.  Jimmy’s costume was even cheaper than the rug; it was an extra-flammable looking version of a wolf man from old black and white movies. The costume seemed twofold stupid when Gary noticed just how close to the fire Jimmy had decided to pass out. He kicked Jimmy again, this time in the stomach. That elicited a groan, and Gary grinned like a shark as Hopkins stirred back to life.  

 

“Awake, I see. So, did you like my gifts?”

 

“Gifts?” Jimmy mumbled, sluggish to respond. “What gifts?”

 

Gary squatted down by Jimmy’s shoulder, and leaned over him to take his jaw lightly in hand. Jimmy grimaced when he allowed his head to be turned, stretching the muscles in his neck long enough to reveal, then pull at the bruise across his cheek. Taking a minute to admire its color, which was something similar to the speckled surface of a green apple, Gary let his attention linger. “This is one.”

 

“Tad punching me is your gift?” Jimmy grumbled sleepily into Gary’s palm. A lazy hand swiped at the grip on his face, but it wasn’t quite strong enough yet to make a difference. “You know, your concept of what a _gift_ is is seriously messed up.”

 

“Yeah, moron, it _was_ _a gift_. You think my _time_ isn’t valuable? Calm down, I’m only pulling on your pigtails.” The fingers went from gentle to vicious, and Gary gouged his thumb into the bruise and stood up again as Jimmy yelped sharply in pain. _Now_ he was awake.  

 

“Yeah well, I didn’t ask for it! I didn’t ask for any of it!” Jimmy declared, much louder.

 

“ _Please_ , yes you did.”

 

“ _How_ did I ask for Tad to jump me outside the library?”

 

Smith looked back to the other boy over his shoulder, his face impassive as he watched Jimmy roll up into a sitting position. Jimmy’s palm was still protectively clutching his jaw, and Gary’s mouth twitched at the corner before he was able to school his expression again. “By saying all those horrible things about his dad and those Swedish prostitutes!”

 

 _That finally_ seemed to light Jimmy up with a spark of anger. He glared at Gary, blame and resentment intermingling with frustration. _“What_ prostitutes?”  

 

Illuminated by the glow of the fireplace, Gary’s grin finally cracked his face wide. Good, James was _paying attention_ _now_. He let their eye contact linger for just long enough to assure Jimmy that every bad thing which had happened to him over the past week had been very carefully calculated, before he left the redhead in the lurch again and he looked back at the fire. He listened to Jimmy grumble, then heft himself up off the floor. Gary congratulated his own cleverness with the thought that sometimes, silence was the best answer.

 

“... _Jesus_ , some gift giver you are.” Jimmy grumbled under his breath. “Giving me a fucking migraine, that’s what.”  There was another pause. “Anyway, you’re late.”

  


Gary glanced back over at his stepbrother, surprised as much as anything that Jimmy was _actually_ paying attention to what time it was. Now that he was standing, Jimmy was fully illuminated by the fire and Gary could see flecks of glitter stuck to the parts of Jimmy’s chest not covered by patches of plastic fur, (which was most of him.) He was wobbling a little bit where he stood, barefoot by the bed. His rubber wolf mask laid discarded on the floor by his feet.

 

“And _you’re drunk_ .” Came Gary’s neutral response, though he couldn’t entirely hide his grin as he tisked in fake-disappointment. “What’s wrong, doggie, couldn’t find anybody else to prank? No more pumpkins to smash? No other morons to slap _kick-me signs_ to? Isn’t this your _holy day_ or something?”

 

“Got all the pumpkins already.” Hopkins made a vague gesture at his legs, and Gary glanced down to discover several whiteish glops of pumpkin guts still clinging to his shins.

 

Smith’s eyebrows raised, and he nodded approvingly.  “I can see that.”

 

“Like my costume?” Jimmy kicked at the rubber mask on the ground, then dragged his thick fingers up his chest, just a little slower than necessary, from bellybutton to throat. “See if you can guess who I am.”  

 

Taking more time with it now, Gary let his eyes trace back up Jimmy’s body, taking in his strong, bare legs, spattered with mud and gourd juice, the brown fur loincloth around his midsection, the plastic brown pelt laid across his shoulders, and finally, the dark painted circles around his already flinty little eyes, his full mouth still faintly smeared with costume blood, his freckled cheeks flush with cheap beer.

 

“...Are you a _stray dog_?”

“No, asshole, I’m a _werewolf_ , get it?! Sound familiar?”

 

“Low hanging fruit, Hopkins. Lazy. Surprisingly lazy.”

 

Jimmy huffed, then returned Gary’s once-over with one of his own. “At least I tried! I mean I _bothered_ to get a new costume. Unlike _some_ people. You didn’t even try to put on your whole uniform! Shit, that ain’t even _half_ a costume. So lame!”  

 

In a way, Jimmy was right. (This thought was _happening too often_ , Gary concluded with a secret hiccup of distaste.)  Gary Smith in his Bullworth uniform truly was the most _‘Gary_ ’ that Gary could be. It was wearing street clothes that _really_ felt like a costume. But he hadn’t wanted to wear those either.  “Down, boy! I didn’t want to have to euthanize _this early!”_

 

Jimmy literally growled. “Asshole.”

 

Smith stood up straighter, even as his body moved on it’s own, drifting closer to his rival. Close enough to see that some of the bits of glitter stuck to Jimmy’s chest were star-shaped. Jimmy had been to a party, tonight. By the look of him, maybe two. He inhaled gently through his nose… by the _smell_ of Jimmy, maybe four. “Come on, you love it.”

 

“You’re such a dickhead.” The retort was only half-sincere, Jimmy’s face flushing a little redder even without the assistance of more alcohol. Their narrowing proximity apparently seemed to be quite sufficient. His eyes slid to Gary’s chest. “I didn’t see you, tonight. Out there.”

 

“Yeah, not really my scene anymore.” Smith shrugged. “People get suspicious when you put on a Nazi uniform these days. Like it’s a crime or something!”

 

“So... what? Why bother with the hat then?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious? I put it on _for you_ , doggie.”

 

Some of the color drained from Jimmy’s face, and Gary’s grin widened. He had bet right, if the distantly panicked look on Jimmy’s face was anything to go by. Jimmy _liked_ the uniform.They didn’t need to discuss why. The sensation of pleasure he got from being right always hit Gary hard, in this particular case making him _physically_ hard. Further proving his point, he grabbed Jimmy’s hand and pushed it into his crotch.

 

“Feel that? That’s for you too.”

 

For a moment Gary watched Jimmy’s throat bob as he swallowed, and then the shorter boy was grinning back at him. His fingers circled as much of Gary’s cock as he could through the fabric, and he ran his nails up the length of it. “Oh yeah, I feel it. Shit, I think I got a matching one for you over here if you’re interested.”

 

“That’s _Obergruppenführer_ to you! If you can even _pronounce_ that.”

 

“I _definitely_ can’t.” Jimmy laughed, and lifted his free hand to rip the brown plastic pelt off his shoulders. He threw it on the ground as he sidled closer, but just as he bent both hands to the task of unbuttoning Gary’s pants, Gary grabbed Jimmy’s wrists and pulled them off.  

 

“ _Nein!_ A _good_ dog only does what he’s _told_!”

 

“Okay, then _tell me_ to suck your dick, why don’t you?”

 

“I don’t think so.” Gary clicked his tongue and made a show of shoving Jimmy away. Hopkins tottered back, and when his heels drunkenly hit the edge of the bed, he sat down hard on the mattress.  

 

“What _do_ you want then?” Jimmy demanded, growing honestly frustrated. “I don’t get it, so you _don’t_ want me to suck your dick?”

 

“That’s a... _complicated_ question.”

 

“I dunno man, it’s not _that_ complicated.”

 

“ _Don’t_ correct me. I know you can’t wait to _choke on it_ until you can’t _breathe_ , but try to have some composure. You’ll swallow it when I _let_ you.”

 

“You piece of _shit_ , you know the last time you did that I almost threw up! I’m really starting to _hate it when you_ -”

 

“ **_HALT DIE KLAPP!_ ** ” Gary demanded, loud enough that Jimmy jumped in place and was startled into quiet. With a sour frown, Gary folded his arms across his immaculate white shirt. “If you’re so _eager_ , lets just see you do it yourself. You’re an animal tonight, right? _So jerk off_.”

 

“What, right here?” Jimmy waved an annoyed hand at the both of them before thumping a palm back down on the bed. “What about you?”

 

“I’ll observe.”

 

“You’re gonna... _observe_?”

 

“Did I stutter?”

 

“At least sit next to me.”

 

Gary huffed, then gave his step-brother a suspicious once-over. “...Why?”

 

“Why’d you think? So I can teach your repressed ass a lesson! Damn! D’you even know _how_ to jerk off? Do you- err-?” Suddenly, Jimmy looked a shade paler, and seemed to grow actually, genuinely worried. “Do you… uh, you know, _actually_ jerk off? Like a regular human? _Is that seriously not a thing you do?_ ”

 

Gary rolled his eyes. “Why would I, when I can just get _you_ to do it _for_ me?”

 

“Come on, man, this is like puberty 101! What were you, absent that day or something? No wonder you’re so fuckin’ repressed!”

 

Gary sighed, gave a theatrical, relenting shrug, and finally sat down. Jimmy immediately slid over until their knees were bumping, before he leaned back on one elbow and shoved his loincloth aside. Underneath, he was wearing baggy tighty-whities, which were beginning to tent obscenely in the front. He slid his fingers beneath the waistband and took hold of himself, stroking his cock lightly beneath the fabric. Gary stared at the motion his fist made while still concealed by the cloth, but otherwise didn’t move.

 

“Okay, King Prude, lesson one;  first, you gotta picture something dirty in your head. Something that gets you hot.” Jimmy’s hand slowed to a lazy rhythm.  “Like for you, it’d be some sick shit like smashing my arm in a locker.”

 

“Lukewarm. I’m not _you_ , shoving morons in lockers _myself_ doesn’t really _get me going_.”

 

“Fine. So you paid someone else to push me down the stairs.”

 

The hand continued it’s steady motion, stretching the cloth of his underwear, and Gary let his eyes flick from Jimmy’s face down to his fist again as he contemplated. It was... nice…  the private idea of being responsible by proxy for hurting the idiot redhead. “...Ok... Warmer.”

 

“What about..? Uhh,” Jimmy’s fist slowed it’s already lazy stroking as he thought harder. He licked his lips, and they stayed slightly parted afterward, which was difficult to look away from. “You… just embarrassed me at a family dinner.”

 

Taking in a short, sharp breath, Gary folded his arms tighter across his chest. “ _And_ you’re crying.”

 

“ _Crying_ ?” Jimmy’s fist completely halted and he half sat up, offended. “You know you’re _actually_ sick, Gary, man, right? Me crying in front of our parents is what gets your dick hard?”

 

The indignant tone in Jimmy’s voice was a nice touch. “ _DING DING DING!_  Give the boy a prize! Hot! Blazing hot.”

 

“You’re exhausting.”

 

“Don’t stop, doggie, keep going! Show me more.”

 

Leaning slowly and just a little stiffly back down again, Jimmy shot a dark frown at Gary as he pulled his dick completely free over the waistband of his underwear, finally revealing the swollen, fleshy head. Like the rest of Jimmy, it was an angry reddish color. A diamond of precum had collected in the slit, and he thumbed across the sensitive tip to smear the viscous fluid around and make his palm slicker, which immediately gained Gary’s complete and unwavering attention. Smith could feel his step-brother’s eyes on his face as he watched that thick fist tug the skin back from the head of his slick cock and squeeze the tip.  His hands had freckles too, which wasn’t surprising. Jimmy’s thick knuckles and sturdy, square fingertips had always put Gary in mind of hitting things, or at least the sensation of _being hit_ . Call it PTSD, or at least something like it, but it was hard to forget the damage those hands could and had caused, even now, after everything they had been through together. So watching Jimmy handle himself almost delicately now was… Gary licked his lips, feeling his throat begin to dry up… it _was_ surprising. And somehow, incredibly arousing. Sure, Gary had enjoyed the sensation of his dick in Jimmy’s mouth before, but he had never seen Jimmy’s hands in quite the same light. When Jim stroked them both together, it was usually dark, or their attention was otherwise occupied by an aggressive round of tonsil hockey, because like with everything with them, kissing was a constant uphill fight. As he watched, Gary had the peculiar thought that he _liked_ Jimmy’s hands. He liked the promise they held. And, as he was discovering about himself more and more by the week, he liked the _literal dick_ they held. It was strange to like something so much it hurt. It hurt mentally, but (for once) also more importantly, physically too. When Jimmy fanned out his fingers to pull up on his balls, he let out a half-stifled groan. Gary sucked up his lip between his teeth and bit it to keep from making the same sound.

 

Jimmy’s hand worked himself to the sound of the fire crackling, and the gentle thum of the ocean, increasing steadily in speed until his cock had thickened to it’s full size, heated and weighty in his hand. The action of it cast his salty smell into the air between them; a familiar stink that had Jimmy’s breath coming quicker.  

 

“What about you?” Gary interjected, without looking away from Jimmy’s fist.

 

At first, the question almost didn’t register. Jimmy’s idiot brain’s higher functions had obviously short-circuited now that he had a hand on his dick in any serious capacity. Gary looked up sharply at his face, which began to flush pink either from lust, embarrassment, or just that they were staring at each other way too closely.

 

“Huh?”  James fumbled.

 

“What do you _think about_ when you do this by _yourself_?”  

 

“By myself?”

 

“Yeah, moron, it means when _you’re alone_.”

 

Embarrassment, and what looked like an unexpected resurgence of apprehension painted Jimmy a delectably deeper pink.  His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes tracing the shape of Gary as he sat angled towards him on the bed. The SS hat fit Smith tightly enough to push his bangs down flat, until they barely tickled the folds of his eyelids. Gary’s staring had quickly become as hungry as any wild animal, but as with most other hunting carnivores, for the moment he was sitting very, very still.   

 

Throat too dry, Jimmy settled on licking his suddenly parched lips again, both of them mirroring the other in barely perceptible ways. He knocked his knee into Gary’s, and his hand picked up the pace again. He stroked himself and was quiet for a minute, then jostled Gary again. Teasing. Inviting. “I think about you.”

 

“I’m so blessed. What _about_ me?”

 

“About.... You doing bad things.”

 

“What kinds of bad things?”

 

Jimmy laughed nervously, letting himself break eye contact, for a moment of what Gary perceived to be allowed cowardice. “Come on, Gary... don’t make me say it.”

 

It was the wrong thing to say. Was Jimmy seriously _avoiding_ the subject? Gary twisted around more fully, every inch of him making it obvious he was about to force Jimmy to say whatever it was he didn’t want to say, regardless of the cost. He re adjusted his uniform cap so it sat farther back on his head and swiped a hand across his forehead, having not realized until that moment that he had begun to sweat. “Oh, you’re going to _tell me,_ Hopkins. You’re going to tell me _every single thing_ , and be sure to use a lot of _descriptive details_ ! That’s _me_ you’re doing those nasty things to in that anvil of a human head you’ve got on your shoulders, and I can’t have you _desecrating_ my noble visage without my go-ahead, so _get talking_!”

 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Jimmy shouted in disbelief, before letting go of his dick and flopping hard on his back, with his arms above his head. He stared incredulously at the ceiling. “What kind of boner-kill is-? You’re seriously messed up, how are you not horny right now?!”

 

“Who said I wasn’t?” Gary demanded, loud and angry. “Tell me what you think about when you’re jerking off!”

 

When Jimmy stalwartly ignored him, Gary felt the acid rise in his throat and he pulled one of Jimmy’s thick, freckled legs towards him, and slapped the inside of his thigh in a single white-hot strike. He felt Jimmy physically jerk in his grip, and looked up to see the redhead now staring in saucer-eyed anger at him, his jaw clenched tight.  

 

“ _Tell me_.” Gary grit through his teeth. He dug his fingernails into the tender flesh of Jimmy’s leg, who finally let loose a delectable hiss of pain. The sound of it alone made Gary’s dick throb in his slacks, and without asking, without waiting, he yanked Jimmy’s thigh to the side and bent down to aggressively swallow his cock whole. His free hand steadied out the jerk Jimmy’s hips volunteered before he had a chance to choke Gary, as above him he listened to the redhead release a blistering string of curses.  Jimmy’s entire body tensed in a way that Gary felt in his chest as he pressed half into his side, before focusing fully on his task.

 

Subsequent attempts at sucking Jimmy’s dick after their first clumsy rendevous against the bar had been…. modestly educational. Only modest because Gary still felt like his heart would explode in his chest from hammering too hard every time they did this, with Jimmy’s hands yanking on his ears, pushing on his shoulders, pulling at his shirt and hair and in general making a mess of things, and so thinking about anything else had been consistently difficult. Jimmy pawed at him again now, dragging his bitten nails across the base of Gary’s skull, urging him on. His taste and smell were stronger than usual too, which was distracting, but only in the way that it got into Gary’s nose, into his mouth, into _his senses_ and made him feel something similar to anger more than it wasn’t, but still not quite the same thing. It was a feeling that made Gary suck harder, sink lower on his pound of flesh, almost burying his nose in the pubic hair he found there, and think of all the ways he might be able to make Jimmy cry in the future. In pleasure or anger, it seemed not to matter. When his tongue swept low to trace a line up between Jimmy’s balls, Jimmy’s hands lost their patience and yanked Gary’s hat off so he could wrack fingers through his hair. Gary made a choking sound of protest and immediately pulled off, savagely batting Jimmy away.   

 

“ _Excuse you_ , James, but _sit on your hands_ ! When did I say you could _touch_ me?” He angrily demanded. Jimmy did what he was told, and without complaint, though he did have the dignity to look a little sheepish about it. Gary glared at him, and dramatically affixed his hat back onto his now much more unkempt head.   

 

“Ok but,” Jimmy mumbled, “if I can’t for you, then you do it too.”

 

“Do _what?_ ”

 

Jimmy’s eyes went pointedly to the proud tent in the front of Gary’s slacks, and lingered there. “...That’s gotta hurt. I could _help-_ ”

 

“ _Oh no_ , I don’t need your _‘help’_ , thanks, Jimmy-boy, but I know what your _‘help’_ looks like already.”

 

“Damn, Gary, this _isn’t_ about _revenge_ for once, alright? You can’t say your dick isn’t in pain right now and if you _let me,_ I could just-”

 

“ENOUGH! Sit still! If you’re so eager to talk about your feelings, why don’t you just describe what getting your dick sucked by your _mental, physical,_ and _moral_ superior feels like?”

 

“C’mon, _moral_ superior? Yeah right, I’m not the _psycho tyrant_ who tried to- _FUCK_ -”

 

Cutting Jimmy off mid sentence, Gary dove down to return to his task, this time with elevated focus. He gripped Jimmy’s cock at the base with all his fingers, giving it a testing squeeze, then only the thumb and forefinger, pulling up the shaft in a tight, slow circle while his tongue explored the spongy head. He could feel Jimmy’s hardness pulsing with blood in his hand, and the salty taste of precum washed across his tongue as he squeezed upward on the shaft. Jimmy let out a small whimper.

 

Jimmy whimpering. _Now there_ was an idea Gary liked.

 

_Okay, King Prude, lesson one; first, you gotta picture something dirty in your head. Something that gets you hot._

 

Slowly, with a dull and mostly distant kind of curiosity, Gary reached down with his free hand and unbuttoned his slacks. There was a minor rush of relief as the sensation of his cock springing free let him breathe. He rolled accusing eyes up at James, who he discovered was staring at him in incredulous idiot shock, then thrust his hand down the front of his pants as if to say ‘ _well fine already, don’t throw a tantrum!’_

 

What was so great about jerking off anyway? It was only ever Jimmy that made him want to do this. Gary remembered thinking about jerking off while still at Happy Volts, but so much more obliquely than he did now. At Happy Volts, criminals and other sick patients jerked off openly. There was something textbook trademark about an asylum full of crazy people flinging their spunk around, until there was a little bit on every surface. It was sad and gross that it was actually true. Having never considered himself the same stock as the other cattle there, Gary had abstained more out of disdain for them than dislike of himself.  Maybe he hadn’t done it because he liked himself _too much_ . He had never liked getting dirty, and smacking the monkey was just one more potential mess in a world already too filthy for a borderline germaphobe to tolerate. But just because he hadn’t done it didn’t mean that he hadn’t _thought about it_.  And Happy Volts was supposed to be behind him.  

 

Anyway, he was half-hard already just from watching. Gary had always been very good at watching. He felt heavy in his own hand, but he hadn’t expected what having Jimmy’s dick in his mouth would do to him. In a way which was immediately stifling, Gary felt the quality of the situation shift. His dry hand lightly stroked his (until now criminally neglected) dick, while the other gripped Jimmy at the base, his full lips popping over the fleshy crease of the head. This time, it felt like... _more_. The actions of his mouth and of his hands worked in tandem on him psychologically, as if it was his own mouth that caused the pleasure in his slacks, and then Gary was the one holding back a whimper. He felt ashamed of it before the sound could even escape him, and his lips slowed. He stopped jerking himself off immediately, though he still held his dick loosely inside his pants. He was NOT about to tell Jimmy Hopkins that he had been right about anything, much less THIS thing.

 

“Feels like… velvet…” Somewhere above his head, Jimmy was pontificating dumbly on the sensation in his cock. Gary grunted and rolled his eyes. It had been a rhetorical demand, mostly just a cruel jape, but Gary supposed it couldn’t hurt. He hummed in sarcastic agreement into Jimmy’s boner, and he felt the other boy shiver at the vibration.

 

“Gary, man… Your mouth is so hot, _fuck_ …”

 

Doy. Mouths were hot. Gary rolled his eyes again as he began to suck harder.

 

“...I forgot that bigass mouth of yours is…. this good at... something other than spitting out a bunch of lying bullshit….”

 

That earned a much deserved scrape of Gary’s teeth and Jimmy yelped, flinching from where he still sat anxiously on top of his hands. Gary could tell Jimmy was suffering from not being able to touch, and reveled in the rush of power that came with it. In a perverse reward, though Gary wasn’t entirely sure to who, he popped off the tip of Jimmy’s dick and craned his head sideways to lick his balls. The moan that erupted from Jimmy was much louder. It was the kind of moan that felt like it might have _originated_ somewhere near his balls. Gary admitted silently, it was a good moan. He _liked_ Jimmy moaning. He liked it better when Jimmy was crying, but a good moan struck a place nearly the same.

 

His face flushed, mouth hanging open, Jimmy looked debauched. The warm light from the fireplace in the shadowy room did little to reduce the redness of him, the certain feralness of Jimmy somehow maximized by lust and beer glow and smudged costume face paint. Even with his dick in hand, Gary had a sudden fierce desire to consume this maddening person. He felt that need scorch through him as hot as the fire, to make Jimmy understand that he belonged to him, that they _belonged_ _together_.  It was the same insane impulse that sometimes made Gary feel like they even did things at the same time of day, like eating or bathing or tying their shoes, when he knew for a fact that they couldn’t be. Occasionally the struggle to understand his obsession with Jimmy Hopkins felt more like an obsession with understanding _himself_ , which was obviously a lost cause if he had ever heard of one.  None of this had ever made any sense, and it never would. But Gary knew the burning feeling would never go away. His hunger for Jimmy was resonant, sinister, and permanent.

 

“ _Tell me_ what you think about when you jerk off.” Gary demanded, his breath a hot gust across Jimmy’s wet dick, and finally the hand gripping his own erection began to move again inside his slacks. He wanted to know.     

 

If it was even possible, it felt like Jimmy’s dick got harder. It wept in sympathy as Jimmy began to sweat, an aura of wetness radiating off his damp, freckled skin. As Gary looked up at him, it seemed like a glitter of something desperate touched Jimmy around his flinty, black eyes. _Hunger_. Gary recognized it mirroring back at him. Jimmy wanted him. It beld across his face as he glanced to the motion in Gary’s pants.  

 

But. He was being stubborn. “ _You_. I told you, man, I think about you.”

 

“Right, _me_. You said. What else?” Hooking a thumb in his slacks, Gary yanked them a little farther down and pulled himself free. He was completely hard now. Harder than he honestly remembered being in maybe years. He tried to maintain a facade of casual control by the pace of his hand, measured, slow strokes taking his pleasure forward in baby steps, not galloping leaps like Jimmy no doubt would have preferred. He wasn’t in the business of giving Jimmy what he wanted.

 

Jimmy swallowed. “Uh… different stuff.”

 

“Such as?”

 

But there it was again. Jimmy’s _stubbornness_ . He looked away with a troubled frown, his lips sealed tight. Stubborn, stupid baby. Or. Gary narrowed his eyes as a concept began to take shape. Maybe it wasn’t that. Was it..? Could it possibly be…?   _Humiliation_? The most beautiful of all emotions that Jimmy Hopkins could wear, other than bloody defeat? Smith could definitely cut a diamond with this hardon right now.    

 

“IF you tell me, I’ll give you something nice!” Gary sugar coated the words, letting their fragile fakeness slip past his lips half demure whisper, half saccharine indulgence of a toddler. Jimmy looked at him suspiciously, but not also without a measure of interest.

 

“Like what?”

 

Without responding with an explanation, Gary pulled his hand out of his pants and put his fingers to Jimmy’s lips. He frowned at first, then his eyes went hazy with lust and he opened his mouth. Gary touched a drop of his precum to the tip of Jimmy’s tongue, and immediately he sucked the rest of the finger down. His tongue was hot and electric with saliva, and for a moment Gary was caught up in the memory of pushing his own dick past those lips. He had to check himself. Doy. Mouths were hot.

 

Jimmy was more than a proficient kisser, and he wrapped his tongue around Gary’s finger in ways that made him physically ache. When he bit down lightly on Gary’s knuckle, he fought back by pulling at the flesh of his cheek on the bruised side, scraping spit out of his mouth and finally drawing back the digit. He bent his head and took Jimmy’s hardness back into his mouth, and the wet finger traced a slime trail past his balls and further south. Jimmy made a sharp hiss as he sucked air in through his teeth, and suddenly he couldn’t continue sitting on his hands anymore. He grabbed twin fistfuls of Gary’s shirt, his grip panicked and encouraging at the same time.

 

“Do you want it?” Gary murmured as he mouthed along the shaft,  then licked Jimmy from base to tip. He had learned a _remarkable_ amount from Jimmy’s own techniques, and turnabout was fair play.

 

“ _Fuck- yeah I do_ -” Jimmy stuttered. His eyes had clenched shut as he focused in hard on the feeling.

 

“You want it bad?” He pushed his slick finger deeper down, finding the tight pucker of Jimmy’s asshole and gently prodding. All at once he sucked down Jimmy’s cock, then resurfaced to tongue the underside of the head.

 

“- _doesn’t matter- shit_ -If you do that for sixty more seconds I’m gonna come on your face-”

 

“Beg for it.”

 

The hands wringing in Gary’s shirt were desperate. “ _-please- shit, Gary, come on man, please-! just- I’m gonna-!_ ”  

 

With a rough shove, Gary threw Jimmy away from him and sat back, his face flushed red with vindictiveness. “Tell me what you think about when you jerk off!” He angrily demanded, all sensuality gone from his voice.

 

“ _Fuck_ !” Jimmy bellowed in frustration and flung himself into the air off the bed. His hands went to claw across his head, then down to cup himself, blue balls definitely setting in. He yelled again, louder this time, unfulfilled lust and pain clearly broadcasted in his tone. He turned around again fully angry, his face redder than ever. “ _Fuck you_ Gary, that was a dick move and _you know it. Fuck you_!”

 

“So are you going to tell me or not?”

 

“Why can’t you just leave it alone?! Not everything belongs to you!”

 

“My _reputation_ belongs to me.” Gary rebutted, ice cold.

  


Frustration lead to action. Jimmy suddenly made his move, jerking forward and grabbing Gary roughly by the shoulder. His free hand smacked the SS hat off of Gary’s head, then helped muscle him over. Gary made a garbled protest as Jimmy shoved him onto his stomach, one hand already jerking down his open slacks with a rough thumb. Beneath him, Gary genuinely began to protest more loudly, and he rose up with an elbow to Jimmy’s chest meant to displace him post-haste. There was fear and panic in the sound he made, though no specific word made it to the surface. Jimmy easily avoided the elbow, and instead dragged Gary’s pants further down until they tangled in a chaotic snarl around his knees, binding his limbs together. With purpose, Jimmy laid out across his stepbrother, and settled his dripping cock in the cleft of his ass. Gary froze completely, his entire body so tight he didn’t even dare to breathe at first.

 

“.. _.Don’t._ ” He eventually mustered the word, but only through clenched teeth.

 

“Tell me you want this. Tell me you want _me_.”

 

“I _don’t_.”  

 

“Jesus, Gary, _stop lying._ ” With that Jimmy rolled his hips forward one emphatic time, and his sticky dick made a slick track between Gary’s asscheeks. Gary shuddered involuntarily, his head hanging low.

 

“You’re _always lying._ ”

 

“I’m not. _You’re_ the liar!”  He groaned in return, angrier this time, and Jimmy rolled into him again. Gary gasped, the muscles in his ass tightening in resistance. He was either too distracted, or too afraid to move beyond that. Taking the opportunity, Jimmy threaded his hand through the brown strands of Gary’s hair and jerked across him harder, pulling his chin up and exposing the long line of his throat as he rubbed himself off in the hot canyon he had found.

 

“ _I’m gonna kill you._ ” Gary gasped, then gasped again when Jimmy’s dick glanced against his asshole while he rutted himself out. “I’m going to _murder_ you!”   

 

“Great, try it, I dare you,” Jimmy urged, his breath coming faster. His eyes closed with pleasure. Beneath him, he felt it intimately when Gary thrust into the mattress, every hair on his neck bristled with attention. “Just _try_ taking me out again, you shitty psychopath!”

 

“ _Fuck you._ ”

 

“You want me to?” Leaning down harder, Jimmy dragged Gary back by the scalp, until he could whisper close to his ear. “Right now?”

 

“ _No, stop!_ ” Gary’s voice cracked in panic.

 

“Kinda feels like we are anyway.” He released Gary’s scalp and pushed up higher on his knees, pulling on Gary’s hips until his ass rose up higher too, but only to the effect of pushing them closer together. Jimmy remained steadfast in his trajectory, only grinding, slick and fast into the objectively innocent cleft of Gary’s ass. One hand went up to press a cheek closer, burying his dick in the extra plush. When he reached underneath them to grab Gary’s cock in his palm, the other boy cut loose a string of acidic death threats that went from simply obscene to morbidly brutal.

 

“... _Don’t do this_ …” Gary pled when his cursing was burnt up, and the sound of it in his mouth revealed him.  He couldn’t think about how he was revealed in everything he _didn’t_ do right now too, how he _didn’t_ push Jimmy away with his hands, even though his mouth tried and tried and tried. He was talking about so much more than how they terrorized each other on the filthy lighthouse mattress once a week. The words _tasted_ desperate, and so much larger than either of them. _Don’t Fuck Me_ felt an alarming amount like _Don’t Make Me Change Myself_ , which was too large a concept to tackle for most people, much less for a young man who's very worst subject was self-reflection, among an impossible cocktail of other equally twisted problems.        

 

Whatever it was in Gary’s voice seemed to register in Jimmy somewhere, though his hips didn’t stop moving. Both his hands grabbed the globes of Gary’s ass and squeezed, kneading the flesh across his length as he rubbed himself out. Gary couldn’t tell what was louder; his heart hammering in his throat, or the sound of Jimmy’s labored breathing.

 

“I wouldn’t!” He attempted to reassure Gary with a voice that sounded deceptively sincere, despite his hands saying something very different. Gary ground his forehead into the mattress to try to hide from the fact that his ears and face had now gone entirely red with fear _and_ anger.  He grabbed fistfuls of their one white sheet and dragged it towards himself, scrambling for something to cling to. Anything other than this.

 

When Jimmy spoke again, he sounded muffled. “I _wouldn’t_ , unless you asked me. _Tell me you want me. Me_ , not anybody else!”  

 

“ _Why_ would I want _a cancer_?”

 

Jimmy groaned in frustration, and his hands tightened perceptibly. “Give me a break, Gary, _please_ . You _never_ cut me any _fucking breaks!_ ”  

 

Who gave Jimmy the right to be so demanding? Had he ever been this stubborn before? On the school roof, maybe. Insisting Gary was _crazy_ , that he had _imagined_ all the horrible things which had happened that fateful school year. He _demanded_ , both with his words and with his actions, when he rolled Gary over onto his back and grabbed his legs, pulling both his knees up over one freckled shoulder. Adjusting himself with a quick thumb, Jimmy pushed between Gary’s thighs. In a turn of events which felt borderline dangerous, Gary rolled his head to the side and threw an arm up over his face, his other free hand still tangled too-tightly in the dirty sheet. Like before, he was either too paranoid or simply too afraid to look at what was happening. The only piece of evidence suggesting otherwise was the way Gary’s dick listed heavily to the side, full and hard. Jimmy seized it tightly in his hand, pushing his thumb up the shaft and to the head, forcing a dribble of opalescent precum to slime out and drip over the tip. He thrust between Gary’s thighs again, picking up an unsteady rhythm. His cock felt hot and slick, and impossibly hard. It felt like the most dangerous thing in the world as it pushed insistently between his shaking legs. Why had he been thinking of it so fondly before? Friend to enemy, Jimmy to a T.  

“Come on, Gary,” Jimmy breathed openly through his mouth as his heart rate picked up. “Tell me you like it. It feels good, right? Even _you_ must wanna get off sometimes...”  He thought about it harder, “.. _especially_ you.”  

 

Underneath the fold of his arm, Gary’s head wobbled back and forth.

 

“No?” Jimmy panted. His rough palm slid up Gary’s legs to pull him closer into his thrusts. “Bullshit! That’s _bullshit_ and you know it.” He reached down and grabbed a fist of Gary’s shirt, but seriously misjudged his own strength. The shirt ripped open, sending white buttons ricocheting off of his forehead and scattering across the wood floor. Gary’s body grew stiff as a plank, and underneath his arm, Jimmy could see his mouth had drawn into an incredibly severe line.

 

“You’re so stubborn, just fucking _say it already_ that you wanna come! You can’t gaslight your _own dick,_ man, just be _honest_ for once!”

 

When Gary still stalwartly refused to make a single sound, Jimmy growled low in his chest and took hold of his cock again, and began to jerk him in time with the motion of his hips, his thumb savagely circling the head at every upstroke. His other hand slipped between them, and with a recklessness which was either entirely stupid or entirely horny, he pressed his index finger with purpose into Gary’s perineum. It was either completely the right or completely the wrong thing to do, in a way that would haunt Gary for weeks and weeks to come. With a barely stifled gasp, Gary’s entire body jerked forward and he abruptly shot his load in violent spurt, across his newly naked chest.  The force of it knocked his arms down to his sides, and his back arched until his scalp dug crazily into the mattress. When it was finally over, he flopped bonelessly flat again, his face flushed and his eyes wide and glazed. He stared in deeply uncharacteristic silence in the general direction of the ceiling.

 

Jimmy froze. His hands still ghosted Gary’s thighs, but he lingered there, afraid for a moment that he had gone too far. Gary’s strip of cum had made it more than halfway up his chest, and when he finally rolled his eyes back down to Jimmy to regard him with hurt and anger, Jimmy could see a glimmer of pearly stickiness on his chin. His SS hat gone, his hair crazy, his flushed face and glassy eyes gave him a distinctly feral look. His mood was as dangerous as it was unreadable.

 

“Err…” Jimmy started, unsure if an apology was in order. He got his answer immediately, when Gary jerked his legs back and then kicked him as hard as he could in the chest. Jimmy went flying, and hit the wood by the fire with a bone-crunching thud.

 

“ _Never_ do that again!” Gary hissed as he rose to a sitting position, pulling his shirt protectively closed again across his sticky chest. Ok, things had definitely gone too far. “If you ever do that again, I’ll _fucking murder_ you. I’ll kill you, and _then_ I’ll kill your whore of a mother, and _then_ I’ll kill-”

 

“Okay, alright, I’m sorry! Jesus!” Jimmy groaned from the floor, his boner flopping sadly.  “Enough with the revenge vendetta shit already, _please. I’m still hard!_ ”

 

That was _definitely_ the wrong thing to say.  Gary stood jerkily from the bed and bent to drag his pants back up. A second of his time was spent trying to smooth his ridiculously mussed hair back into reasonable order (which proved impossible) and then he was powering over to Jimmy, who wisely shied away. Gary stomped down hard on Jimmy’s dick, and the boy howled as he crunched into a ball and tried to roll away.

 

Gary made for the door.  Even through his haze of pain, Jimmy shot out a hand into the air after him. “Wait! Gary, Come on, where are you going? Don’t be like that!”

 

“Go drown yourself in a toilet.” the back of Gary’s head coldly declared.  

 

“I’m sorry! Look, I really am! I should have stopped, we need a safeword or something, Christ!”

 

Gary stopped at the door, his hand resting on the knob. His head had turned halfway towards Jimmy, as if he were considering something deathly serious. He still didn’t speak.

 

“...You wanna know what I’m gonna think about when I jerk off later? I’m gonna think about tonight! About you!”

 

Ever so slightly, Gary turned his face closer to Jimmy, listening.

 

“I told you! You can do what you want! I’m strong, I can take it. I _want you_ to! _That’s_ what I think about, ok? All the evil shit you’d do! I just want you to _do it,_ not be afraid of it!”

 

Still without speaking, but with a truly paradoxical softening of his expression, Gary let his eyes bounce up and down Jimmy’s face as he turned the words over in his mind. _Afraid_ . Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. The things Gary wanted to do to Jimmy weren’t nice. But they _were_ exciting. So exciting that sometimes Gary couldn’t breathe, or even think clearly for want of doing them. But then again, Jimmy had always had that effect, whether he inspired anger or pleasure. The jury was still out on whether or not Gary liked that about him or he didn’t.

 

“Fine.” Gary settled, one sharp word.

 

“Fine? What’s that? What’s fine.”

 

“Fine, _I want to, too_.”

 

Jimmy nodded once, and looked down at the hand still half-curled around his bruised dick. “Uh, so... I guess… same time next week?”  

 

“Obviously.” Gary grunted in disgust.  And then he muscled through the door into the night, the shape of him dark and angular against the glint of the ocean before he was gone. On the floor too close to the fireplace, Gary’s SS cap started to smoulder as it caught a spark and began to burn.

  
  


Same time next week.


End file.
